Dreams for Other Women
by Cankerblossom12
Summary: Set between "The Rough Patch" and "The Playbook" Robin contemplates her brief engagement. Un-betaed


Wendy the waitress must have been on vacation last week. Or sick. Or was, for some reason, simply not invested enough in the personal lives of her regulars, because she had clearly missed the memo. There was just no other explanation for the conversation that followed a now standard round of ribbing from Ted and Marshall.

"Robin!" Ted cried as she entered the bar on Thursday before work, giving a nod to the two guys before slumping down into their usual booth. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Oh, really? What's up?" Pushing hair from her still-tired eyes and laying her elbow heavily on the table.

"A friend of Heather's just cancelled her wedding at the Plaza. You should jump on the opening since you're going to be married in six months." Ted declared as a manically grinning Marshall held out delicately gilded brochures.

"Yeah, don't you remember "Bride Wars"? This is serious stuff."

"I thought you only watched that because Lily wanted to."

"Anne Hathaway is a very talented actress, okay?"

"Guys, will you please stop talking about my freaking wedding?"

It was this moment that Wendy sidled up to the table, ready to take their drink orders. "Ooh!" The waitress exclaimed, "Did you guys pick a date already?"

"Come on, serio-…wait, what?" Robin turned to her in confusion.

"You and Barney. Did you pick a wedding date?"

"Oh! Nonono. No." Robin's eyes widened.

"Long engagement then?" She said dryly.

"Hardly. Wendy, where exactly are you getting this from?" Robin glared at Ted and Marshall who could only alternate between looks of innocent bafflement and mirth.

The waitress shifted to one side, sensing she was encroaching on dangerous territory. "Well, The Plaza!" She gestured to the array of pastel pamphlets on the table. "And the big toast last week. Barney bought you guys champagne! Carl comped you a bottle…? I think Doug cried."

"Uh…Oh." She sputtered and understood. Words drying up as she remembered_ had she really forgotten? _that she, in fact, had been engaged last week, if only for 24 hours. "We broke up, actually." She gave an awkward little half smile. A little shrug of explanation--it's not like there'd been anything dramatic about it after all.

And then it happened. Wendy apologized. Of course she did, but it was with such genuine dismay--the way someone would apologize having discovered they'd just asked about the health of a recently deceased aunt: Shock. She didn't know. She was sorry. Was Robin okay? And Robin realized it was the first time someone acted as if their break-up was anything other than awesome and a welcome return to stasis. That it might be awkward and sad. That it might be something worth mourning. Robin wasn't sure, but it might've been the first time she'd thought it herself. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and her fingers ached suddenly, clutching taught at a paper napkin.

"Well, men are bastards." Wendy cooed sympathetically, in that uniquely female tone with which Robin was familiar, but had never been able to muster herself. "What can I get for you? On the house, Sweetie."

"On no, it wasn't like that we -_what? Broke up amicably? Would never have gone through with it anyway? Would have been the worst married couple in history?- '_re still friends. It was mutual." _God, why, did she sound so defensive? _"I guess, Gin and tonic?"

"Sure thing. And it's great that you're staying so positive. Guys?" Wendy continued taking their orders, but Robin could only stare off into space, troubled.

The guys only shrugged it off. "Guess she was out of the loop on that one."

"Do you think we should start going to a place where everybody _doesn't_ know our name?"

"Dude! Don't even say that. We would never get sympathy drinks anywhere else."

Robin stopped listening and sipped her gin in silence. She had been engaged. Somehow it hadn't really hit her until now, but she, Robin Charles Sherbatsky Jr. had agreed to marry someone. And it was everything she always feared marriage would be, a compromise, a convenience. But also not.

She'd never been the type of girl to make pretend veils out of pillow cases, but how could she not feel just a little happy when Lily squeeled about being her maid of honor? _Holy crap, she'd thought about a maid of honor! _And Barney? Barney had even seemed kind of…what? Barney had seemed a little like his old self: expansive and yelling and buying everyone booze. And she? God, she'd been such a bitch then. But somehow they'd stayed at MacClaren's through last call and not talked at all about wedding plans. They'd just sort of hung out, his words seeming a little less annoying than they had been recently. Then they'd gone back to his place and had sex without ordering pizza first. Perhaps it was just the champagne painting everything soft and fuzzy, but that night she got engaged had been okay. Kind of nice, even.

Why, then, did she get this sick feeling thinking about it? She really didn't see herself as getting married, but she hadn't seen herself as becoming the uptight shrew she'd been lately either. And she suddenly she felt an odd longing. Maybe not longing for what her relationship could have been, but for understanding. She had never really understood women who could think of maids of honor and squeel and she hadn't seen where they'd gone wrong.

She left the bar to go to work, her mind swirling around the passive aggressive bitch she'd become, and the places she wanted to go, and how sweet Barney'd been over the summer, and how grating he could be sometimes. And the fuzzy champagne feeling. And how he might still want to marry her. And her 39th birthday.

She left a good tip for Wendy.


End file.
